


Failing the Monster Hunt

by BoyoBoyItsRegret



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Manticore, Soft Vore, Vore, monster au, safe vore, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyoBoyItsRegret/pseuds/BoyoBoyItsRegret
Summary: Sometimes, when you set out to kill a manticore, you don't end up slaying it. Sometimes, you meet the weirdest people in the weirdest places. Felix has done both in the same day.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Failing the Monster Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my awesome friend spadefish! check out his tumblr. im posting it here too bc i figured why not, archive deserves some more fe3h vore and these fics usually get more attention than on tumblr. enjoy!

The wandering swordsman. That’s what they had called him. When he’d first walked into the small Faerghus village the night before, their quiet whispers told him everything about what they now knew about his fake title.

No, not the wandering swordsman, but the ex-duke Fraldarius, the one who had long ago abandoned his duty in search of a more exciting life. The failed son who was raised with everything and gave it all away so he could sleep on the ground and hunt for his food. He who had many enemies, yet chose to make more, all for the express purpose of cutting them down. 

Whispers and rumors be damned, though. He didn’t care what they said behind his back. He didn’t care what they thought of him, or if they decided to contact his still living father. He was here for one purpose. 

This particular village had extended a call for help three weeks prior in response to sightings of an enormous beast hunting on the lands near it. Multiple villagers had gone missing, and a hunting party sent out had all turned up dead. Then, just a week ago, a foreign looking researcher had shown up, asking around about the creature, and vanished into the woodworks two days after his first arrival. 

He hadn’t been seen since. Whatever was picking off the villagers, however, hadn’t ceased in its assault, and just the night before, a woman had gone missing: her house had been torn open, her bed was shredded and bloody, and enormous red pawprints on the frozen ground had indicated just what kind of creature they were dealing with. 

A manticore. Native to the lands of Faerghus, they were thought to have gone extinct hundreds of years ago. If this one had survived that extinction, it was doing a poor job of staying hidden, which would have saved its life. 

He entered the town hall with the request, rolled up neatly into a scroll, in his left fist. Placing it upon the reception desk, he made hard eye contact with the woman behind it. Her gaze told him everything: she knew who he was, she was mildly jealous of his birthright position, and she thought he was a fool for leaving it. As she opened and read the request, her brows rose. 

He’d volunteered to slay the beast. Torn the paper right off of the requests board and made a beeline for the stricken villager on foot. If his winter coat lined with fur and ice wasn’t enough to indicate how long and far he had traveled, then the hard set lines in his face were. Upon his sword, his grip shifted. 

It would be a new challenge. He didn’t feel the need to explain it to anyone, they would never understand. They didn’t need to. They didn’t live his life or know how stifling it felt to be a duke. They didn’t know how boring the same weak opponents felt. He’d grown tired of sparring with weaklings and taking the lives of petty bandits. He wanted a challenge, and here one was. 

He was told to wait, and wait he did, tapping his boot on the floor and taking in the details of the town hall. It was constructed from wood and stone and lit with torches in metal holders--they didn’t have the money for chandeliers or glowing stones, it seemed. The desk before him was just a carved piece of wood, hardly what one would call a professional’s work. The floor was wood, too, with a long and worn carpet whose color had long faded. He couldn’t help but think of how easy it would be to burn this place down. 

Finally, the woman returned with his request paper. It had been stamped for approval, and rolled back up with several other papers as well. As their monster slayer he would be provided with a free room for the week covered by the town, and a map of the surrounding area had been enclosed with his request. When he brought them the beast’s head, he would be given an award for its weight in gold. 

With his request approved and his bed assured, he turned and left, heading for the only inn the town had. Not that he truly needed their approval. If they had turned him down, he would have slept on the ground and navigated with his gut instinct. Gold didn’t interest him; it was just another way for him to buy food and fix his blade. When he was hungry he hunted, when his sword grew dull he sharpened it upon a stone. 

The bed given to him was less than plush, and he had known far better when he was still a duke. But Felix was not one to complain; he never had been. He had grown accustomed to the hard, frozen ground, and a mattress full of hay was better than soil full of ice. Even so, he did not sleep well that night. He never did when he was in a foreign place. 

The following morning, he was treated to a small breakfast of eggs by the hostess of the inn. Though much of the livestock in the village had suffered, she had moved her chickens into an indoor pen, saving most of their lives. Despite its small size, the omelet she gave him was better than the jerky he had saved for breakfast, and he was nonetheless grateful for her sacrifice. 

Then, it was off to the forest. He sharpened his sword before he left, ensuring the blade would cut with a mere touch. A manticore’s fur was thick, and the steel of a normal sword wouldn’t suffice. The wootz steel of Zoltan’s craft, however, was made for beasts, and with it, he would see the beast dead before the end of the day. 

A fresh snow had fallen the night before, producing a chill in the air that turned his every breath into a puff of smoke. His footsteps crunched as he left the cobblestone of the village, leaving a distinctive trail behind him. That was terrible for hunting; if the creature had an ounce of intelligence, it would be able to follow him. He would have to cover his trail once he was on the hunt. 

Taking his map with him, it was not long before he had made it to the treeline. He had walked several miles away, the village not even a dark speck on the white horizon. As he had crossed over the empty expanse of the white field outside the village, leading up to this treeline, he had noticed every stump poking out of the ground, white snow contrasting with the near black bark. Before him now were the trees that had remained, too strong to be cut down, forming a barrier too great to be penetrated. 

Before him was one of the many great forests of Faerghus. The trees here were so tall in their deepest points that their tops could not be seen. Here at the edge, he already had to crane his neck to see the dark needles forming their tops adorned with snow. Their black was nearly black. The strong scent of pine hung in the air, mixing with the crisp scent of snow. 

In forests like these, it would be easy for a manticore to hide. The wind would be mute and ineffective, at least, so he wouldn’t risk his scent being carried towards it. Any sound made, however, would be amplified. He would have to remain cautious at every turn. 

Letting out a long exhale, Felix pulled his furred hood up and entered the treeline. 

He was right about it being silent. As he trudged forward, he was aware of how loud his footsteps were in the frozen snow, crunching beneath him with each step. Every time he disturbed a bird or rabbit, their retreat echoed loudly throughout the forest. The trees were packed closely, with few clearings to be found, and to save himself from getting lost he began marking the trees which he passed, always moving forward in a straight line. 

The map was useless at this point. It had supposedly outlined the forest, but he couldn’t tell wherever the hell he was supposed to be on it. Supposedly there was a cave system near the heart of it, but he had been walking for hours and had seen no indication of it. If he kept wandering at this rate, he would freeze to death; the numbness of his toes and nose was already a prelude warning him of frostbite. He let out a hiss and stepped forth into one of the only clearings he had found, scanning the area for any sign of a potential shelter. 

There. The trees had broken their otherwise impenetrable line to make way for what appeared to be a large hill of rocks. Snow had fallen atop them, but the cave they formed had remained untouched. He thanked his lucky stars that it wasn’t windy as he approached it, finally letting himself shiver. 

If the ground wasn’t wet, he could gather sticks and make a fire. Put some pine needles on the ground to absorb the cold of the soil, and then fortify the entrance with some more of them. He could put off eating for now, just focus on warming himself and ensuring his shelter was safe. On his person he carried enough jerky to last him two nights, though the meals would be light. And for water, he could always consume snow. 

But his plans were put on hold when he heard something snore. Felix froze, immediately moving his hand to his sword. It was dark inside the cave, the bright light from the snow failing to illuminate whatever slept within it. It sounded big--and alongside the snores, he heard the distinct gurgles of a stomach. 

Was it the manticore? He narrowed his eyes and took a cautious, silent step forward. There appeared to be a large shape towards the back of the cave, slowly rising and falling with each quiet snore. As he took another step forward, it suddenly shifted, rolling onto its back to expose its full belly. 

The manticore. He could make out its outline only, no specific details, but right away he could tell from its lion paws, man like head, and wings what species it was. And its belly, rounded out and gurgling from what must be the woman it had eaten the night before, indicated that it was his target. 

How lucky that he had come across it while it slept. He clicked the restraint off his sword and unsheathed it, the glint of the blade sending a small flash of white light across the dark stones. The manticore failed to awaken from the insignificant occurrence and kicked one of its hind legs lazily. 

It was...almost too easy, really. He wanted a challenge, not a giant sleeping winged cat. The way it was now, he could just cut its head off and return with a party to clean its corpse and gain himself a new pelt. It was too easy. 

Maneater or not, he wanted an actual fight, not an assassiantion mission. Felix stepped back, never taking his eyes off the manticore. Once at the entrance to the cave, he drew in a deep breath of cold air and pounded the hilt of his sword against the stone, creating a loud tack tacking that echoed throughout the cave. 

The manticore awoke almost immediately, and its single blue eye locked onto him. It flipped over and growled, lowering its body into a pouncing position. As it moved its belly sloshed, groaning loudly at the sudden movement. 

Felix held his sword forth and made eye contact with it. If he lost his position at the front of the cave he would have to deal with its wings. Slaying it in its own home was the best strategy for him. He tapped the toe of his left boot against the ground once, twice, and braced himself for its attack. 

The manticore lunged. Its claw came at him from the right and he immediately brought his sword down. The steel bit right through its flesh, hitting bone and sending a spurt of blood forth as he tore it back. 

It roared and swiped at him with its other claw. He jumped back, narrowly dodging it, and charged, swiping his sword up to slice its chest. A fresh wound spat blood forth as he slid under it, slashing once more at its already wounded left leg. Incapacitate that, and he’d have it on all threes.

But his strategy to slide underneath it was cut short as its rotund belly, otherwise a deadweight, suddenly collided with him, cutting his move short. He would have swiped with his sword, cut the beast open, if the soft flesh before him hadn’t suddenly moved. The sensation froze him in spot for a mere second, and in that time the beast dropped its weight onto him, pinning him beneath its belly. 

The air was forced from his lungs in a single puff of breath. On top of him, its squishy belly wriggled with whatever live creature was still trapped within. Felix kept his grip on his sword tight, pointing it upwards to stab the creature’s side, but it's right paw smashed down onto his arm, the searing pain telling him right away it had broken it. His hand when limp, his sword clattering against the ground. 

No! He sucked in a breath and tried to kick at the monster’s belly, but his legs were pinned as well. He’d always been short, and the creature’s belly was large enough to squish his entire upper body and thighs against the cold soil beneath. Uselessly he dug both heels into the ground and tried to push himself out from beneath it. 

Its weight gave way for a single moment, allowing him to propel himself forward right into its claws. With its good right paw it pinned him down, holding him against the floor and keeping his arms against his sides. Felix hissed and glared up at the creature before him. They were the entrance of the cave, and the light from outside let him see its face quite well. 

If it had been a man, he surely would have been described as handsome. The hair around his face was long and blonde in color, light to match his single icey blue eye. The fur on his face was grayish black on his nose and whitish on his cheeks and chin, and feathery ears of the same grayish color poked out from beneath his blonde hair. Trailing down his neck were feathers of a lighter gray color, though the majority of his body was colored darker. Only his face was light; even his scorpion tail was dark in color. 

Really, if he hadn’t been pinned beneath the beast and about to die, Felix might have considered him a good specimen. But there wasn’t time to admire now. He wriggled beneath the paw holding him down, the pain in his right arm a dull ache thanks to the adrenaline in his veins. 

The manticore lowered its face, revealing its sharp teeth in a wicked snarl. Felix snarled right back at it, even as a deep growl emitted from its throat. 

“Well? What are you waiting for?” He spat, narrowing his eyes. “Kill me already, maneater!” 

The manticore’s snarl almost turned sadistic--was that a smile on its face? Its claws closed around his back, and it lifted him into the air with ease. Raising its left paw, he got a good view of the wound he had inflicted upon it--deep and crimson, staining its grayish fur black. 

He expected it to eviscerate him. Instead, the claws which popped out from its paw instead tore at his clothes, instantly shredding his pants and coat. The daggers on his belt fell as said belt was cut, and his boots were yanked from his body. Finally it tore off his shirt, leaving him in just his underwear in the freezing cold. Goosebumps--and blood, from the slight scratches it had given him--ran down his skin. 

“The fuck is the point of this?” He thought, kicking at its paws. “If you’re going to kill me, just kill me!” He shrieked. 

The manticore let out a huff and gave him a long sniff. He tried to kick its nose, but it was centralized on his upper body, not his legs. Then, it opened its paw--and immediately ran its huge tongue over his bare upper body. 

Felix screamed and wriggled beneath it, punching uselessly at its face. The skin of a manticore was thick anyways, but combining with the bone of its face, it just made his fists hurt. Even so, he wouldn’t stop fighting, not until he was dead. 

Its tongue ran over his face, covering his world in pink and spit for a moment before it finished and withdrew its tongue, swallowing down his flavor. Wiping his eyes with his free hand, Felix growled at it. He knew what would happen next: it would clamp its jaws over him, spilling forth his blood and organs, and he’d be a bloody pulp in seconds. 

Except instead of biting him, it once again pinned his arms to his sides and lifted him into the air. Below him, its mouth opened. And Felix realized in horror what it truly planned to do. 

He screamed as it lowered his feet into its mouth and immediately swallowed, trapping them in its esophagus. The muscles which seized them were so strong that Felix couldn’t jerk them back no matter how hard he tried, and his efforts at releasing himself were only met with another swallow, this one taking in his calves. 

The manticore was still holding him, keeping his arms at his sides. It's hot breath washed over his lower body, combining with the frigid air outside. He instinctively shivered as he struggled against it, ignoring the goosebumps forming over his skin. 

“HEY! THIS ISN’T RIGHT!” He cried, managing to free his good arm. “LET ME GO!” He punched at its face, aiming for and missing its good eye. 

The manticore rolled its eye and swallowed again. Its throat muscles crept upwards, over his thighs, and Felix gasped at how tight and hot they were. No, no--! Not here, not now, he was not doing this! But before he could punch for its nose, it released him, letting his upper body hang out of its mouth, pulled downwards by gravity. 

His lower body was entirely in its mouth, his butt on its tongue and his waist rubbing against the roof of its mouth. He was upside down, staring at the snowy world outside, the blasts of cold air from outside making him shiver. 

The tongue beneath him shifted and began to rub back and forth against him, creeping up his back and up against him. His waist was pushed up onto the hard palate above, and the tongue grinded him back and forth against it as it worked to cover him with drool. The heat, the moisture, the friction...Felix could feel himself starting to grow hard, and immediately resisted it. He forced himself to try and sit up, though the sudden blood rush left him dizzy. 

There was no need for words. He grabbed the manticore’s nose with his good arm, his broken right one screaming with pain at all the jostling, and pulled himself upwards onto its face. He couldn’t do much with only one arm, but he could still fight. Gathering all the spit he had left in his mouth, Felix promptly spat right into the creature’s eye.

It jerked back, surprised and disgusted by the sudden action, and the muscles in its throat contracted, pulling him even deeper. Felix yelped as he was yanked off its face and his lower body was pulled completely into its throat. The soft but tight muscles squeezed his erection hard, and he gasped at the tightness, oh it had been so long since he’d had any sort of pleasure--

No, no. focus, focus, he was in its mouth, no, he was going to die here--

There were fangs all around him and a tongue against his back. Saliva dripped onto him from above, and muscles below were gradually pulling him deeper. He reached for a fang, realized that doing so would make him lose his other arm. And with horror, learned that his head was right between its incisors. 

Sitting up, however, only induced another swallow, and he was pulled in up to his belly. Now his head was against the tip of its tongue, pressed against the hard incisors. If he looked back, he could still see the snow outside.

The tongue shifted beneath him and pressed him into the hard palate above, twisting beneath him as it tried to lick his face and chest. He groaned and tried to struggle against it, but the rough tongue only pressed harder, forcing the air from his lungs once more. When he sucked in another breath, it was one of damp air. 

Another swallow echoed around him, and now he felt the muscles pressing against his chest, gradually climbing upwards. He was so hard now, the friction and heat and softness all combining at once, better than anything he’d had in months, and he just wanted to give in to it…

The mouth closed around him, sealing him in darkness. From between wet incisors, he could just barely make out the glint of the snow outside. The tongue curled around him, pressing against his face, covered him in thick manticore saliva, pressed him to the back of the throat. It was so hot, the heat from outside a sharp contrast to the cold of the outdoors...and it was so soft, so much better than the ground...and it was so tight, much better than the grip of his own hand...he wanted to close his eyes and revel in the feeling for just a moment, just a second, just let himself go...

One more swallow and he came, hardly caring as the muscles of the esophagus pulled him down, rapidly closing over his head. A few strands of his hair which had come undone still lingered at the back of the throat, but they were rapidly pulled down with their owner. Felix moaned as the tight, hot muscles pushed and pulled him downwards, deeper into the manticore. Its huge, beating heart pounded nearby, accompanied by its equally loud lungs, and around him echoed some kind of rumbling...a purr? It was purring as he descended deeper into it. 

His feet were the first to enter empty space, bringing him back to reality. They were suspended for but a moment, however, as they rapidly pressed against a squishy wall. As he was squeezed into its stomach he was forced to bend his legs and curl up, the last of him sliding in with a loud squelching sound. 

Oh goddess, he had just been swallowed alive by a manticore. Felix took a moment to breathe, to get a hold of his tight surroundings, moved a hand out to feel the wall--

And instead felt the hard chest of another human being. 

“Hi!”

He screamed and immediately jerked back, or would have if he had the space too. Instead, he collided with a squishy wall and immediately tried to jump up, resulting in him tumbling all over the stomach before he finally came to a standstill upside down. The walls around him tightened, pressing him against the stranger. Felix growled and tried to regain his balance, realizing too late he didn’t know what was up and what was down. 

“Sorry about scaring you,” the stranger continued, and he froze. “You were the guy outside, right?”

“Who the fuck are you?” He demanded, wriggling as he tried to find a comfortable position. He felt the strangers hand upon his shoulder, and with a single movement they slid him back into an upright sitting position. Around them both, the walls of the manticore’s belly shook with the sudden movement. 

“You can call me...Claude,” the stranger said, and judging from the sound and the way the manticore’s stomach suddenly stretched to one side, Felix guessed he was sitting back. “Try not to struggle too much, you’ll throw us both off kilter.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Felix demanded, turning in the direction of Claude’s voice. ‘Why the fuck are you so calm!? We’ve been eaten by a fucking manticore, and you’re telling me not to struggle!?”

As if on cue, the manticore suddenly let out a loud belch, and the walls of its stomach tightened exponentially, squishing Felix against Claude. Then, it began to shake a little--likely cleaning itself, or licking its wounds. In answer to his question, a small stream of bloody saliva dropped down onto their heads. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m in here because I want to be, but I can tell it’s the opposite for you.” 

“You’re what.”

It was pitch black in the manticore’s tight, hot stomach, but he could practically hear the wink in Claude’s voice. “You heard me. I’m testing my new anti-digestive formula.”

“Your what?”

“It might be a bit weird to you, but I brew poisons and remedies for a living. I’m here for some rare ingredients, and I figured I might as well test out my anti-digestive formula while I was at it. I’ve been here for what, ten hours now? And I’m still fully intact, so I’d call that a success.”

Felix was absolutely flabbergasted. “What. The fuck.”

“Hey, we live in a world where monsters can come and snatch us up at any time. You might as well plan ahead. With this formula, we won’t have to worry about being digested alive at any point in time.”

Speaking of being digested, Felix could already feel the heat starting to creep beneath his skin. The walls of the manticore’s stomach were massaging him with fluid, and it was starting to tingle. Was this digestion? There was a pool of fluid beneath him and Claude as well…

“Shouldn’t you be focused on getting out of here?” He asked, trying to take his mind off the prospect of being digested alive. 

“Oh no, I hate cold. I’m just waiting for this manticore to get sick of my indigestible presence.”

“Who says it won’t just tear you apart, dumbass?” 

“I’ve got a plan for that, too. But in the meantime...I’m guessing you don’t want to be digested alive?”

“It doesn’t sound desirable.”

“Then here, drink this.” He felt Claude’s hand roaming over his body before it finally came across his right hand, and a small vial was pressed into his palm. “I’ve got enough anti-digestive formula to feed a whole town, so trust me, we’ll be fine.”

“How didn’t you get torn apart? It ripped my clothes off.”

“Meat scenting and willing offering. Also, a lot of catnip.”

Taking the formula with his left hand, Felix struggled with the small cork for a moment--both his hand and the vial were covered in spit and digestive juice,so it was rather slippery. But finally, he popped it off and promptly downed the whole vial. The concoction within was thick and bitter, settling like lead in his belly. He coughed and tossed the vial aside. 

Already, he could feel heat blooming inside him, emerging from his belly. His skin tingled painfully for a moment--and then the feeling vanished. 

“So, that’s it? I just drink whatever that was, and now I’m invulnerable to stomach acids?” 

“Pretty much. Now we can just get comfortable.” The stomach walls stretched again and Claude raised both hands above his head and leaned back. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’d like to go back to sleep.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Buddy, this isn’t my first digestive tract. Try a cranky wild wyvern in a typhoon.” 

“How the fuck are you even alive?”

“Strategy, of course. And a lot of poison,” he muttered under his breath. 

Felix glanced at what he thought was up. Even if he couldn’t digest in here, he was still trapped inside of a manticore. How was he going to escape?

Around him, the manticore shifted, massive belly swaying as it moved. Heading to the back of the cave, it curled up around its warm belly, placing one wing over the distended flesh and closing its eyes. The humans within were a warm, comforting weight inside of him, and soon they would be pudge on his belly too. The thought made him purr with happiness--it had been a while since he was so full. 

Felix groaned as the purring started again, making the stomach walls vibrate. Was this really how his day was going to go? What the hell would he do when the manticore finally spat him and this weirdo Claude up? He had no clothes, and his sword was...goddess knew where in its cave. 

But...he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. For now...he might as well just sit back, like Claude, and take in the softness of it all. 

It had been forever since he’d known anything so soft and warm, and without the danger present, he wasn’t quite as ready to abandon it.


End file.
